


5 Time Malcolm Almost Died (and the one time it was almost Trip)

by GuardianofFun



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:48:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9792491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: Starting from Shuttlepod One, a series of times Malcolm thought his world might have been ending. Mostly written so I could write a bunch of cute things.





	1. Shuttlepod

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worte thi for my friend Aly over on tumblr! <3
> 
> This one is tiny, the other chapters all ran away with me, sorry about that
> 
> Spoilers for s1e16 'Shuttlepod One'

That was it. They were going to die. That wasn’t the pessimism talking either, no matter what Trip might say, they were going to die. The temperature in the shuttlepod had dropped even lower, they were fast running out of oxygen as they took long, shuddering breaths and Malcolm was pretty sure he had lost all feeling in his legs. He glanced over at the commander, huddled under the thinest blankets Malcolm had ever seen. They barely did anything, but he was so still now he could barely move anyway. 

Trip must have felt his eyes burning into the back of his head, because he glanced up at him. There was frost on his nose, and Malcolm had the most ridiculous desire to reach over and brush it off. He hadn’t even realised his hand had moved until it stood, shaking in the air between them. Both sets of eyes glanced at it.

“Shakin’ pretty bad Malcolm,” Trip huffed, his own jaw trembling as he spoke. Malcolm nodded, though it looked more like a full body shiver at this point. 

“Seems so,” he responded, not entirely capable of forming full sentences. His hand was still trembling. Then Trip grunted. 

“C’mere then,” he said, jerking his head backwards. Malcolm tried to raise an eyebrow, but he couldn’t tell if anything had happened, his face was so cold. Trip, somehow, had enough energy to throw him a smile. 

“You were a scout? Survival tactics, sharin’ body heat?” Malcolm nodded. Of course that made total sense. He inched his frozen ass across the platform, until he found himself pressed flush against Trip’s side. There may not have been much warmth coming from the commander, but heat tore through Malcolm so fast he thought he was on fire. At least if he were going to die, he thought, he would die rubbed up against the man he adored. 

Trip turned to look at him, eyes shining down from where Malcolm had pressed his face into Trip’s arm as he clumsily threw the blanket open enough that it would wrap around the two of them. 

“Better?” he asked. Malcolm shrugged. 

“Face's still cold,” he muttered through numb lips. His own eyes darted up and the look in Trip’s eyes made his stomach twist. 

“I c’n fix that,” he said in a voice so low it sent shivers of another kind down Malcolm’s spine.

Then suddenly he twisted, so that Malcolm was resting on a broad chest instead, and a shaking hand lifted Malcolm’s chin. The armoury officer’s heart took off at warp nine, as Trip leaned in closer. 

“S’just survival tactics, right?” he said as his nose bumped Malcolm’s. Malcolm’s lips moved of their own accord as he darted forward and closed the gap between them. He wondered, as Trip’s lips caught his own, if it was possible to die of happiness. Trip’s warm breath ghosted over his lips as they parted, and he felt himself flush in response to the dirty grin on the engineer’s face.

“Commander?” he asked, voice shaky. “I think… I’m still cold. Might need some more of those survival tactics-“ he had barely finished before Trip had leaned in for more. 

Malcolm Reed did not die that day, but he would have been perfectly content if he had. 


	2. Engineering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just pure self indulgence? I have no regrets

This was it, Malcolm was going to die. His heart was in his throat and he was pretty sure his lungs had seized up. Confusion had made him dizzy, and everything sounded very far away all of a sudden. How had it come to this? Malcolm Reed, tactical officer was going to die in engineering. 

All he had wanted was to find his no-good boyfriend. He had missed lunch earlier that day, and was late to date night, like he had been the past two weeks. Malcolm knew holding anyone to a Reed’s impeccable timing was unfair, but even for Trip, two hours late was taking it a bit far. After sitting alone in his room, watching as the food went cold and the beers got warm, Malcolm finally decided to do something about it. They had, over the two years they had now ‘officially’ been together, ironed out most of their problems; Trip brought extra blankets because Malcolm hogged them at night, and Malcolm had switched toothpaste brands because Trip didn’t like the one in Malcolm’s bathroom. Little things. Compromises, agreements, the thing that had stopped their relationship exploding every time they had an argument. 

This though, was really starting to piss Malcolm off. As he stormed down the ships corridors though, he tried to even out his breathing. If he went in all guns blazing then Trip would only yell back, and that wasn’t exactly how he pictured his evening - a slanging match in engineering. Upon reaching the doors, Malcolm paused, counted to ten and walked through the doors with a thin smile on his face.

“Commander Tucker?” he called as he poked his head around the door. Empty. He stepped further in, and saw only a few crewmen on the walkway above. It was quiet. Too quiet. 

He tried calling again, and one of the crewmen heard him, and she lent over the railing. 

“Commander Tucker’s in his office, sir,” she called down, smiling. Malcolm waved a hand as he thanked her. As he headed towards Trip’s office, he could have sworn he heard giggling. 

He buzzed at the door, and it crackled for a second before he heard Trip call out for him to enter. 

“Trip?” he asked as he walked in. The man in question had his back to him, bent over his desk as he fiddled with something. There were tools scattered on the desk, and piles of shavings on the floor.

“Oh Mal!” he answered, craning his neck to peer at him past his shoulder. His smile faltered a little at the dark glare of Malcolm’s eyes. “I know, I know, I’m runnin’ late, I keep gettin’ distracted.” 

Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest. “Distracted by what, exactly?” Trip grinned and turned to face him. “Lil’ project I’ve been workin’ on. In fact, I’m almost done,” he added, walking towards Malcolm. He had one hand wrapped around something, and Malcolm tried to figure out what as Trip’s hands waved as he spoke. “Will ya gimme a hand with it-shit!” he yelped, as whatever it was flew from his hands as he gesticulated. Malcolm moved to grab it, but Trip had already dropped to his knees to catch it.

Malcolm froze, his hands still outstretched as Trip caught the small object with swift fingers. Something slim and round, something that looked an awful lot like a-

“Will ya’ try it on for me?” Trip asked, crashing through his train of thought. He held it up, the ring in his hands. A delicately twisted and smoothed ring, embedded with a deep blue stone. 

This was it, this was how he died. In his civvies, in engineering, clumsy hands hanging in the air and his mouth flapping wildly. 

They had never been ones for grand shows of affection, it had taken them well over a year to even dare say ‘I love you’, so it stood to reason that Trip would never _actually_ ask him to marry him. of course he would make it into something daft, make it ridiculous and silly and completely non-traditional. That was Trip though, the opposite of him in nearly every way. Fun and silly, but full of love. Though he was grinning, his eyes were serious, yet still full of hope. Then they looked worried for a second and Malcolm realised he had been silent for at least thirty seconds. 

“Uh, Mal? Commander Tucker to Lieutenant Reed, you read me?” There was still a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Yes,” he said, so quietly Trip almost didn’t hear. “Yes, oh fu- of course!” he said, louder this time as Trip pulled himself up and threw his arms around him. 

“You’ll marry me?” he asked again, whispered into Malcolm’s ear. 

“Yes Trip, of course, I will,” he said as his heart began beating at a normal pace again. Trip grinned as he grabbed at his left hand, and slid the handmade ring on with pride.

“I love you, Malcolm Reed.” 

“I love you too,” Malcolm replied, his sentence cut short as the engineer pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips. Then with a loud whoop, he swung his arms under the armoury officer and hoisted him into a bridal carry. Part of Malcolm wanted to scream about propriety and duty, but the louder, winning part of him screamed that he had just got engaged to the love of the life. Laughing, he allowed himself to be carried out of engineering as Trip called out to his crewmen.

“He said yes!”

Malcolm Reed did not die that day, but he wouldn’t have minded, he thought, if he had in the arms of his finance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also liked to believe the gem in the ring was something pretty from Andoria that Shran and Jon had helped Trip find like, everyone on board was in on this except Malcolm.


	3. Home

This was definitely going to kill him. Not even Trip’s hand in his could stop the panic from rising as doom swallowed him whole. They were sat on the sofa, and the doorbell had just rung but Malcolm suddenly found that his legs had given up on him. Trip gave his hand a squeeze but it didn’t help much. They had sent out engagement letters to both sets of parents, offering today as a meet-the-in-laws type of event, not that Malcolm had any faith in his own parents turning up. No, this was going to be his first foray into the Tucker family, and it felt as though he was about to fall straight into the deep end. 

“You gonna get that?” Trip asked, giving him a nudge. Malcolm made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a sob. “Come on, we’ll get it together,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Malcolm’s temple as he stood. Malcolm knew it was ridiculous, the idea that _he_ was about to die in the face of Trip’s parents, the man who could scare off just about any alien species, but the thought of meeting Trip’s parents, and telling them the big news terrified him. 

As Trip cajoled him with promises of ‘a fun night of de-stressing’ he felt his heart thud against his ribs and he swore his eyesight was fading, yes that was it, he could see the light now- only it was the door, sunlight streaming through and silhouetting the figure standing outside. Trip threw open the door and Malcolm braced for impact.

Only to find it was a familiar face standing at the door. 

“Mother?” His heart still beat at an unusual pace, but he could at least breathe a little easier now. His mother, a short woman with dark hair, stood in the door frame, her coat pulled tightly around her, despite the warm weather. 

“Malcolm,” she said, a small smile on her face. Instinctively he leant forward to peck her cheek, and then stepped aside to allow her in. 

“Please, come in - can I get you a drink?” he asked, one hand reaching to take her coat. His mother shook her head. 

“No thank you, I won’t stay long,” she said, eyes darting to the door that Trip was pushing shut. “Your father is waiting in the car,” she began, but lost her words as her gaze drifted back to her son’s face, which had turned to stone. 

“I know you two are not on best terms, Malcolm,” at which Trip had to hide his scoff under a coughing fit, excusing himself to the kitchen. Malcolm felt his shoulders slump as his finance left, the lack of an audience for this painful exchange a blessing. 

“I understand mother, honestly. I didn’t even think he would come,” he said, and his mother sighed. 

“I know your father is, ah, difficult at times. He does care about you though-“ Both Brit’s ignored the second ‘coughing fit’ that exploded from the other room. “- and I insisted we at least come by, seeing as we were in the area,” she pursed her lips, hands twisting in on themselves. Malcolm’s throat went dry.

“And Malcolm, my boy… I care. An awful lot, and I know we don’t talk much, but I am…” she glanced at him with watery eyes. “I am happy for you, and Charles. Truly.” 

Malcolm nodded, moved by the most unexpected display of emotion he had ever witnessed in his mother. There was a moment when both mother and son simply looked at each other, before Mrs. Reed pulled her boy in for a quick hug. His arms hung by his sides as she held him, till he picked them up and gave her a squeeze before they parted. 

“I should be going,” she said sadly. “Tell Charles I said goodbye?” He nodded once again, and held the door open as she left. Trip returned, a glass of water in hand and stared after her in shock.

“That’s it? I didn’t even get t’say hi,” he said, and Malcolm shrugged. 

“It’s better like this, I think. I’m just glad you didn’t have to suffer through that,” he said, voice quiet as he caught sight of his father as he drove off. Trip’s free hand snaked around his waist, and he planted a kiss on the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry I can’t say the same for my folks,” he said into Malcolm’s hair, and the Englishman took in a shuddering breath. Somehow though, the thought of facing Trip’s parents seemed less daunting after that train wreck.

In fact, when the doorbell rang half an hour later, Malcolm’s hand went for the door a little less shaky hands, and when Mrs. Tucker grabbed him by the shirt for a hug, he found himself smiling despite the fear. Charles Tucker the second had waved away his offer of a handshake to pull him into a quick hug too, and Trip watched it all with a grin on his face. As they guided their guests into the living room of their shared flat, Trip stopped him, catching his hand as he passed. 

“You’ve got this Mal, they love you already,” he said with a grin. Malcolm felt his cheeks flush, so distracted himself by snatching another kiss.

Malcolm Reed did not die that day, but he thought, as Trip’s mother bustled around the kitchen, and his father listened in awe at some of their stories, that he would not have minded his last day to have been so lovely.


	4. Altar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phlox and Mal are bffs okay i just

This time, he was definitely going to die. Phlox stood by his side, and he honestly considered asking exactly how much his heart could handle, because he feared that it might give out on him.The doctor smiled and he tried to smile back, but the look on Phlox’s face tells him he didn’t do a very good job of it. 

“Lieutenant, you’re getting married not fired out of an airlock, you might want to smile. Commander Tucker’s going to think you don’t _want_ to marry him _,_ ” his best man said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Malcolm spluttered, feeling himself turn red. 

“That’s easy for you to say Phlox, you’ve had plenty of practice at it,” he huffed, picking at non-existent fluff on his dress uniform. 

“Yes, and Denobulan weddings are much bigger than these human ones, so count yourself lucky,” he said, his gaze unfocused as he reminisced. “My last wedding had over four hundred guests, and I remember thinking to mysel-“ he stopped himself when he realised he was rambling. “Anyways, I look forward to yours Lieutenant, it’ll be interesting to see exactly how these human ceremonies go. Hoshi tells me that those, what do you call them, soap operas, you watch aren’t the best representation.” Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh, else he feared he may sob.

“If this is anything like a soap opera, I _will_ be flinging myself into space,” he cried. Phlox laughed again, but this time Malcolm couldn’t help but join in too. He was glad he was here, in all honesty. There was nobody else, bar Trip, that he felt so comfortable around. Phlox had seen him at his worst, and helped him through enough of it; even through all the insults Malcolm had hurled at him every time he tried to stick a creature on him, the doctor had stuck around. Before Enterprise, Malcolm wouldn’t have said he had any friends, but he had gained an invaluable one in Phlox.

He knew too, that he had gained a surrogate family through the crew. The thought brought a lump to his throat, especially when he had glanced into the room next door and spotted his side of the room. His mother and father had, unsurprisingly been called away urgently at the last minute, and been unable to come. Maddy was there though, chatting away with Trip’s mother last he had seen her, and for that Malcolm was thankful; she was the only relative he cared to have there. He then realised that his half of the small room had been filled too. The spaces were filled with the crew, all sat in their Sunday best; Hoshi and Travis had grabbed seats either side of his sister, his armoury team had all declared themselves Reed’s for the day and even T’Pol had chosen to sit with them. Phlox had assured him that the captain would have sat with their first officer too, had he not been stood at the front, ready to officiate. 

Malcolm was shaken from his thoughts as Phlox gently tapped his shoulder. 

“I believe that’s our cue, Malcolm,” he said quietly. Sure enough, the sound of talking outside had gone, replaced with soft music. Knowing there were only a few seconds left before he was expected to head out, Malcolm found himself throwing an arm around Phlox for a quick hug. 

“Thank you Phlox.”

The doctor quickly left to find his spot, leaving Malcolm alone in the dressing room. Itsuddenly felt too small, like the walls were closing in around him. _Oh great_ he though, _I’ll die back here and everyone will think I’ve stood him up, I’ll be a disgrace I’ll-_ he felt dizzy, lightheaded. Through the door he caught a glimpse of Trip, stood up next to Jonathan, both of them in their dress uniforms too. His stomach flipped. His husband-to-be looked amazing. Not that he didn’t always, but Malcolm had always had a _thing_ for men in tight fitting suits. He decided to concentrate on Trip, ignore everything else, as he opened the door and made his way down the short aisle. He ignored the faces either side of him, because there was already a stinging in his eyes that he knew would turn him into a mess if he caught someone’s eye. 

The walk seemed to take a lifetime, but soon he was there, standing in from of his captain, Trip’s hand wrapped tightly around his own. He didn’t quite hear much of what anyone said, too distracted on watching the way Trip’s smile seemed to grow as they went on. He could barely take his eyes of him. 

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and his daze was broken by some good-natured chuckles. 

“Malcolm, that’s you,” Jonathan said, and Malcolm felt his face flush red. Glad they had stuck to traditional vows, Malcolm said his piece, and found that it got harder and harder to speak as the lump in his throat seemed to almost choke him. As he uttered the final “I do,” and slipped on a ring with shaking hands, Trip was knocked out of focus, and there were fat tears rolling down his cheeks. If not for Trip’s warm hands, if not for Trip at all, he would have bolted from the room right there and then. Instead, he stood silently sobbing as Trip repeated his vows back to him.

Somehow the annoying prat managed to do his without choking, and instead of tears he had a megawatt smile, one that shone brighter than any star they had seen. His voice washed over Malcolm, every word promising a future together, through thick and thin. Not that they hadn’t already lived through some of the worst times together aboard _Enterprise_ but now they would be by each others side for every single moment. The gold band being positioned next to his hand crafted engagement ring symbolised exactly that. 

“I do.”

Malcolm was sure Jonathan said a few more words after that, but Trip had launched himself at Malcolm, dragging him in for a long, deep kiss. Faintly, he heard cheering, and a swell of music. They broke apart, but all Malcolm could see was Trip, nothing else was really all that important. 

“I love you Malcolm, with all my heart,” he whispered, though Malcolm could hear it clear as day. 

“I love you too, Trip, so much I-“ Trip’s lips cut him off in another powerful kiss, and he found himself laughing into the kiss as strong hands dipped him into the most overdramatic fashion, for the longest kiss he had ever had. The cheers around them exploded, and he wondered if the he would ever come down from this high.

Malcolm Reed did not die that day, but he thought that in the embrace of his husband would not be a bad way to go.


	5. Taxi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for car accidents and some minor blood mentions

Really, this time he might actually die, he thought. With a pounding head and the taste of copper in his mouth, Malcolm blinked a few times until he could see clearly. Something was not quite right, and it took him a few moments to realise the world had been tilted on it’s side. That was definitely not right. He turned his head and felt pain shoot down his neck, letting out a low groan as it throbbed. By the time the pain subsided, the sounds of the world were coming back to him; the tinkling of glass, someone else moaning softly and a car alarm blaring somewhere. 

That helped things click. _I was in the taxi,_ he thought, as he began scanning the area as much as he could without turning his head. _I’m still in the taxi_ came the second thought, as he realised the car lay on it’s right, while he was sat, strapped into the left side. The seatbelt around him was the only thing stopping him crumpling onto the pile of broken window beneath him. 

_The taxi crashed_ came his next thought _._ The thought after that was interrupted by a sudden sound just outside the car, a voice as someone hooked an arm over the doorframe by his side. A shadow blocked the sunlight that had been trickling through, and whoever it was called out over him. 

“There’s just the two in here!” The sound was loud enough to set his head spinning, prompting a weak grumble of annoyance. The voice, slightly quieter this time spoke directly to him. 

“Sir?” He tried to respond, but it felt as though his tongue was to heavy in his mouth. Instead he tried to shift his shoulders but another wave of pain washed over him, sharp in his neck and it made nausea swirl in his stomach. The voice spoke again, softer. It was a comforting voice, feminine and calming. 

“Sir, my name’s Sam, I’m a paramedic,” That surprised him. How had they got here so quickly, he certainly didn’t remember blacking out. Just a loud bang and then in an instant he had been on his side. He wanted to question it, but it seemed Sam the paramedic was one step ahead of him.

“I guess you’re lucky, we’re just outside the hospital. We’ll have you outta there in no time, okay?” He felt his jaw twinge as he opened it, but his tongue had finally worked out how to move again. Hating how croaky he sounded, he managed to answer. 

“That would be great, thank you.” The person moved off again only to reappear a few moments later. In that time, Malcolm had made a quick assessment of himself - nothing broken as far as he could tell, maybe bruised and scratched, but there were no bones out of place. He could wriggle his fingers and raise them to run along his face. No strange lumps, and his nose seemed to sit properly. His chest, though sore, especially where he was rubbing against tough seat belt, felt nothing like it had when he broken four of them during that Suliban interrogation many years ago. It seemed he only had to worry about his neck, the dull ache in his head, and the fact he had caught his tongue between his teeth at some point. 

There was a loud groaning sound above him, as the door above moved back enough for a figure to slide into through the gap between Malcolm and the seat in front of him. The woman who had joined him smiled up at him, her hands already reaching out to give him the same once over he had given himself. 

“Hi, Sam again,” she said as one hand gripped his wrist to check his pulse. “What’s your name?”

“Malcolm Reed,” he responded, annoyed at how much his chest protested at the words. The woman’s eyes widened at his answer, though her hands continued to complete their ministrations. 

“Malcolm Reed, as in-“ she paused and her face turned slightly pink as though she had only just realised he was in his dress uniform. Malcolm threw her a weak smile that turned into a grimace as her nimble fingers reached his neck, and he finished for her.

“Lieutenant Reed?” She turned a few shades pinker.

“Yeah, oh gosh wow-“ she began, then as though realising their situation, she stopped and shook her head. “I’ll ah, finish being starstruck in a moment Lieutenant, but first off, let’s get you out of here.” She looked upwards and began calling out to the rest of her team, and Malcolm didn’t get the chance to laugh, and tell her that as of three hours ago, it was Commander Reed. Before he knew it there was a brace being clipped around his neck, and strong hands were holding him as he was unbuckled and gently pulled from the car. 

Within a few minutes, he was flat on a board, the quick movements sending his head spinning. The sun was bright, and it didn’t help the headache building or the rolling of his stomach. Sam had reappeared at his shoulder as he was lifted onto a gurney. 

“You still with us Lieutenant?” she asked, but she sounded very distant. The sky didn’t seem so bright all of a sudden, and the last thing Malcolm heard before his eyes fell shut was someone, somewhere, screaming. 

Despite the car crash, the neck injury and blinding headache, Malcolm Reed did not die that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO the unnamed taxi driver, they're okay too!


	6. Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the kid part of the kid fic!! also the longest chapter because I am Inconsistent
> 
> Warnings again for car accidents and some soft angst (happy ending though!)

Trip Tucker felt as though he was on top of the world. The sun was shining, the air was clear, his husband was off getting a promotion and he was strolling through the doors of San Francisco’s best hospital. Normally, he hated hospitals. They smelt strange, their food was strange and they held only painful memories of bones being set. Not today though. Today, his son would be born.

His feet by now knew the way to the maternity ward, and to the slightly smaller wing that his son was on. The benefits of an artificial womb were numerable, but one of the best, especially in Malcolm’s opinion, was the orderly fashion everything was done in. They had known months in advance when their son would be born, down to the minute.

Their plan had been somewhat thrown out of the window when Starfleet finally got their asses in gear and offered Malcolm his promotion to Commander, and had insisted that today was the only day they could actually do it, unless he was willing to wait another ten months or so. Malcolm had thought it was ridiculous and said he would decline it for now, insisting he be at the hospital all day instead, but Trip had encouraged him to take it, to make today a double celebration. The hospital, unlike Starfleet were actually flexible with their timings, and they had found a way that meant Malcolm could get from the offices to the hospital in plenty of time to welcome their son into the world. 

That morning, Trip had been glowing with pride as Malcolm pulled on his jacket, the tight fitting garment hugging every inch of his perfect body. While his husband set off for the stuffy Starfleet offices in a taxi, Trip had been packing a bag and taking their own car (now fitted with the best car seat money could buy) to the hospital to begin preparing. Part of him longed to be with Malcolm, standing by his side as he received his extra pip, but the whole thing would be over in a few minutes, and it had made more sense for at least one of them to be early to the hospital to set up the room they would be in. 

At least, Trip thought with a grin as he entered their private waiting room, Jonathan was the one leading the ceremony, and he had promised Trip a live comm. of the entire thing. He was able to watch in awed silence, as Archer rattled off the usual speech, and then, only barely able to suppress the whoop of joy, as Malcolm got his third pip. There was a second call, a private one, about ten minutes later from a slightly giddy Malcolm, that he was leaving now and hailing a taxi. He should only be about twenty minutes, and their son was due in sixty. Plenty of time. Everything was perfect, and Trip Tucker was having an amazing day. 

Until, that was, forty minutes later, when Malcolm was nowhere to be seen and not responding to any of Trip’s calls. Worry began to build in the engineer’s chest, at first because Malcolm might miss what was going to be the most important event of their shared lives, and then because there was no way of getting in contact with him. Trip hadn’t realised he had been pacing, until their doctor had popped her head in, and he stopped dead. 

“Doc, you haven’t seen Malcolm have you?” he asked, and the frizzy haired doctor shook her head. 

“He’s still not here?” she asked, nibbling on her lower lip. Through the year that she had known Trip and Malcolm, Doctor Jennifer Anderson had learnt a lot about their habits. For one, Malcolm Reed did not run late. She glanced at her watch and then back up at Trip.

“Why don’t you pop outside and have a look for him? It can be tricky getting to the drop-off zone sometimes, gets a bit busy. He might just be caught up?” she offered with a smile. Trip’s own eyes darted to the clock and her smile grew.

“I promise you Trip, neither of you will miss anything. I’m sure we can hold off if you’re ten minutes late.” Trip’s face broke into it’s own smile, though it wasn’t the same one he had strode in with earlier. He leant forward to press a quick kiss to the doctor’s cheek as he passed through the door. 

“Jen, you’re a star. I’ll be back quicker ’n you can _happy birthday.”_

* * *

The closer Trip got to the main reception of the hospital, the more agitated he felt, There was a tense feeling in the air, every room he walked past crackled with tension. Voices got louder the further he went, an odd sort of excitement that didn’t sit right in his stomach. As he entered the back of reception, a patient brushed past him, gossiping in not-at-all quiet voice to the guest with him.

“-you see the car it hit? On it’s side, the dude was just hanging there!” 

Trip’s heart hammered against his chest and he begged his brain not to make the leap it was running towards. It was too late though as fear began to build and he felt his breathing quicken. Moving towards the exit felt as though he was stuck in a dream, everything moved too slow. There was a crowd outside the doors, people craning their necks to get a better view of the two cars that were strewn across the road. One, large four by four with it’s bumper only just showing signs of damage, and a taxi. A taxi flipped on it’s side, glass everywhere and swarmed with first responders. 

Trip’s eyes moved past the larger car, and the police car that had pulled up beside it. They glided over the person being helped into a wheelchair, the driver of the taxi probably. They landed on the figure that was being hoisted from the wrecked cab, and the distinctive blue with the red piping, the insignia on the sleeve and _holy shit_ that was Malcolm. 

Trip Tucker wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart, because it felt as though someone had a hand around his, and had wrenched it from him. He felt hollow. 

His feet moved without his say so, and he heard himself bellow as he shoved through the crowd.

“Malcolm! Malcolm,” he grunted as someone tried to push him back. “Let me through!” he growled, throwing off the hand that shoved back at him. “That’s my husband, let me through!” That made them freeze just enough for him to elbow them out of the way. He broke from the crowd and stumbled out by the edge of the upturned taxi. An arm shot out, and he almost punched the person it was attached to before they spoke.

“Sir, where do you think you’re going?” The man asked, uniform signalling that he was one of the paramedics. Trip tried to steady his breathing unsuccessfully, as he pointed towards the stretcher a limp Malcolm was being strapped to. 

“S’my husband, please, lemme- our son’s about t’be born, he’s supposed to come meet me-“ His voice caught as realisation crashed into him. The sobs came thick and fast. The arm at his chest drops, instead wraps around his shoulders, and the deep voice says something to him, but he can’t hear it. He can only watch as the stretcher is hurried around to the side of the hospital into where he assumes A&E is. The arm nudges him and he takes a stumbling step in the same direction. More arms appear at his side, and he finds himself being lead through a door where someone promises Malcolm will be in soon. 

Left in a sterile white room, so unlike the bright, warm yellow of the waiting room he should be in, Trip presses a hand to his face. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it only causes more tears to build. His head is buried in both hands when the door behind him opens and Jennifer walks in. 

“Trip,” she says softly, and Trip spins. He knows he is an hysterical mess, but Jennifer has seen worse and she crosses the room to pull him into a hug. 

“Trip,” she repeats, because it doesn’t seem like he’s registering anything, but he breaks the hug to look into her eyes.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” she says, and it feels as though some of the weight on his shoulders has been lifted. The doctor continues.

“Malcolm’s okay, a bit beaten up but he’s fine and your son is still waiting, we can hold off for the moment, circumstances as they are.” Trip’s shoulders sag, and it is only with seconds to spare that Jennifer steers him towards the chair in the corner before his legs give out. 

“Wh… What happened?” he asked lamely after a moment.

“After you left, I heard one of the patients mention something about a car being overturned outside. Something felt off, so I headed straight down here,” she reached out to squeeze Trip’s shoulder. “They were wheeling him in. He should be fine though Trip, honestly, mostly minor bruising and scratches from what the paramedics told me.” 

Her hand moved to rub circles between Trip’s shoulders, and he allowed himself to take long breaths to calm himself. 

The world wasn’t ending, and his heart had not been snatched from him. He could feel it again, beating at a nearly normal speed once more. A few moments later, and the door opens again. This time, on a hospital bed and dressed in a flimsy gown, Malcolm was wheeled in. Though he was pale, and sporting a small bandage over one cheek, Malcolm’s eyes were shining as he caught sight of Trip. 

“Sorry m’late,” he muttered as Trip bundled over to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Malcolm Reed, don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he said, though the effect was nullified by the small sob and massive grin. Malcolm lifted a hand, and pressed it to Trip’s cheek. 

“Just for you, I’ll try,” he whispered. His lips broke into a dopey grin, and for a minute Trip wondered who the man in the bed was, because that was not a face usually found on Malcolm Reed. He turned to look at the doctor who stood by the other side of the bed. A kindly looking man, slightly older than the two of them smiled back. 

“He’s had some pain medication, he might be a little mellow for a while. He’s got whiplash, and a mild concussion, which should go soon, though he might have shoulder pain for few weeks. Other than a few cuts and bruises, your husband is doing fine.” Trip nodded, thanking the man. Conversation continued for a few moments as the doctor passed him a prescription for some painkillers they could pick up later but the doctor’s soon trickled out. It was only then that Malcolm’s eyes caught sight of Jennifer who had hung back after her colleagues had left. 

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, and his head snapped over to Trip so fast, Trip could almost feel the pain that danced across his face. Trip went to place a soothing hand over the ache, but Malcolm batted at it. 

“Trip! Never mind my bloody neck, our son!” Trip had known Malcolm long enough and seen him in sickbay enough to predict his movements, and he placed a gentle hand on his husband’s leg before he could swing himself from the bed. 

“Woah, you can’t jus’ get up and walk out of here,” he said, pushing him back down. He glanced over at Jennifer for backup. She shook her head lovingly at them. 

“Trip’s right Malcolm,” she said and Malcolm let out a yell.

“Am I the _only_ one who cares that our son should be born-“ he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes ago!” 

Trip chuckled. “I do care Mal, but you’re not gonna be any use to the lil guy if ya can barely stand without passin’ out, are ya?” 

Malcolm huffed, and was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. A knowing smile on her face, their doctor opened the door. The paramedic from earlier, Sam, stood with a grin on her face and a wheelchair at her feet.

“I heard someone needed a lift down to maternity?” 

* * *

Trip Tucker did not die that day, though for at least an hour at one point, he though he had. That day, Charles Reed Tucker IV was born. By late afternoon, Trip was stood by his husband’s side as their son was born. He cut the cord with the steady hands of an engineer, even if the rest of him was shaking like a leaf. Then he had turned and bent to capture Malcolm’s lips in a kiss as the doctor quickly tended to the boy.

“Congratulations Commander,” he said, hands squeezing Malcolm’s good one with all his strength. Malcolm grinned back at him as they parted. “You’re a dad.” Malcolm lifted Trip’s hands to his lips and kissed them. 

“And so are you,” he said, his voice full of pride. At the sudden sound of crying, both heads turned to the doctor, who beamed over the bundle in her arms. 

“He’s in perfect health,” she said, and Trip chuckled. 

“Wish I could say the same about his daddy.” Malcolm prodded him from where he sat in his wheelchair, but the playful mood was lost when their son was lowered into Malcolm’s arms. Trip knelt by his side, one arm sliding under Malcolm’s weaker arm to support their son’s head. 

“We did it,” Malcolm’s voice was hushed, revered as he took in the sight of Charles’ face. Trip’s nose definitely, but the smattering of hair on his head was closer to his. He supposed that could change as he got older, maybe it would take to the sun like Trip’s and be blonde  by the time he could walk. Now though, it was the perfect reminder that the bundle in their arms was nothing more than theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this wild ride? I kinda just rolled with it, I hope some if you read it you enjoyed, would love to hear any criticisms you have or anything <3


End file.
